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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23723293">these pumpkins</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/aroberuka/pseuds/aroberuka'>aroberuka</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Homestuck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff and (very light) Angst, Food, Gen, Pumpkins</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 10:07:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>518</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23723293</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/aroberuka/pseuds/aroberuka</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Side-effects of entering the Medium may include limited food options and the mortifying ordeal of finally meeting your friends face to face.</p>
<p>Thankfully, Jane is a firm believer in the power of shared meals.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jane Crocker &amp; The Alpha Kids</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Flash In The Pan: A Food Flash Exchange</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>these pumpkins</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/elijah_was_a_prophet/gifts">elijah_was_a_prophet</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Three days into the game. This was the sum of their food situation as far as Jane could see:</p><ol>
<li>

<p>pumpkins;</p>
</li>
<li>

<p>old cans with missing labels: the staple food of three out of four teenagers, apparently;</p>
</li>
<li>

<p>booze, <em>BANEND</em>;</p>

<p>3.5 <em>*BANNED</em>;</p>
</li>
<li>

<p>perfectly serviceable Crocker-brand products, including but not limited to pre-packaged mashed potatoes, salad, pasta, and assorted baking mixes. Also banned. There was no telling how deep the rabbit hole went, and though Jane seriously doubted the brainwashing potential of Fruit gushers, in light of her previously misguided skepticism the least she could do now was to indulge in the others’sparanoia.</p>
</li>
</ol>
<p>In summary: not a lot to work with.</p>
<p>Still, never let it be said that Jane Crocker was a quitter.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jane did not know what her alleged grandmother, the Baroness, once and future alien dictator, <em>apparently</em>, thought of the baking tradition she’d build her empire upon, or indeed if she thought anything about it at all aside from a means to an end. Her father, though: her father had instilled in her a deep respect for food as a breaker of barriers and connector of people—the sense of community that came from cooking together, from shared conversations over shared meals.</p>
<p>It had been painfully obvious, right from that first night where they had all sat around the fire and pretended this would be a fun camping trip, that shared meals were an experience unique to her. And then there was the simple fact that none of them knew how to simply be around the others; friends though they may be, there was an awkwardness to being physically together that none of them could easily shake. That first night had been stilted and tense, all of them waiting for a breaking of the ice that never came through.</p>
<p>Unlike everything else, this was something she knew how to fix.</p>
<p>Which was why they were going to go through with this, even if it meant Jane had to bully her friends a little to make sure the pumpkin was pureed (“… could it <em>not</em> be pumpkin?”), the dough kneaded (“Food is food, what’s the big deal?”), and the buns toasted (“Pretty sure we could just alchemize a three-course meal, Jane”). There were plenty of broken eggs along the way, both literal and metaphorical, but in the end even Dirk took his appointed role of vegetable slice-and-dicer seriously, and by the time the table was set no-one could have missed the deep satisfaction that had settled upon them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>In the end the (pumpkin) salad was underseasoned, the (pumpkin) pesto too thick, and the (pumpkin) bread rolls ran the full gamut from suspiciously crunchy to suspiciously squishy.</p>
<p>Jane’s inner perfectionist could can it though, because Roxy was smiling as she demolished her sandwich. Jake, for all his mumblings about <em>never wanting to see a pumpkin again, Jane</em>, took second helpings of everything and dug into them with renewed ardour, and Dirk, wonders of wonders, looked almost relaxed. All they had was each other, but they did have each other, and maybe that wasn’t such a bad start to this trainwreck of theirs.</p>
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